


Arrest

by PurpleVinedRose



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game), Don't Starve Together (Video Game)
Genre: Character Development, Death, Drama, Emotional Imbalance, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Romance, Short Stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleVinedRose/pseuds/PurpleVinedRose
Summary: Short stories/adventures following the characters through the Don't Starve/Don't Starve Together universe.





	1. They Thought it Could be Better (Charlie/Maxwell)

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles will often refer to what the story will be about and which characters will be named.

The sharp pain that ripped through his chest startled him from his slumber. Turning onto his side, Maxwell turned to look into the dying fire that sustained some of his warmth. His straw roll was worn down, to the point that there was almost no use to it anymore other than for kindle.

Rolling and stacking what was left of his roll, he threw it into the fire. It popped and crackled, and Maxwell held his breath as he heard his... associates, for lack of better term, sigh and turn in their own straw rolls. Wendy and Webber huddled close to each other. Wendy clutched her little flower close, and Webber had his fangs dangerously close to the little girl's neck.

Maxwell rubbed his eyes, his attention once more turned to the pain in his chest. He had been having the most wonderful, yet foggy dream. Of his old career, of his old life. There was so much he had missed out. Such a beautiful lady he had longed for... One that would never forgive him.

"Charlie..." He whispered. He had felt her presence so long. In his heart, where her little hair piece of a never-wilting rose rested over. In the roses that had been springing up close to associates' camp. She was lingering. Or maybe it was his madness. It was hard to tell.

"Charlie," he stated again, this time louder, confident that she would hush his voice from waking his team. "Forgive me. Take me if you must. Leave them be though- they deserve better treatment than this freezing... nightmare..." He trailed off.

Two bright, almond-shaped eyes blinked at him from the shadows.

"Please..." He extended a hand. "My most beautiful assistant. My most beautiful pride..." Taking quick steps towards the quickly fading eyes, ones that almost seemed lackluster, he leaped forward.

For just one second, he felt his fingertips brush the cold, familiar and quaint hand that belonged to his partner.

"Maxwell?"

The magician turned, rubbing his eyes again. He was surrounded by darkness. How was he surrounded by darkness?!

"Where's Maxwell?" Willow's voice broke his stupor.

"I don't know, I just woke up and saw him step into the night!" Wilson's voice was panicked.

"That idiot! He's going to get himself killed out there!" Wickerbottom's tired voice intervened. "I, too, saw him leave, but I thought he was talking to one of us out there."

"I also thought I heard him talking to someone... in the darkness." Wilson uttered.

"Don't be silly, you two. Maxwell doesn't know anyone besides us, and we're all here!" Willow's word was final, and her exasperated voice showed her irritation. "I'll go look for him. He couldn't have gone far and still be alive."

A fading light was coming closer to him.

"Willow..." He whispered. He could see his breath. Wasn't he wearing a jacket? 

"Maxwell you damned fool...!" A torch came to light in front of his eyes, and it was then that he realized that he was lain on the ground. His hands folded over his heart. Over his rose.

The warmth didn't touch him, he could just see Willow's scowl. 

"I've found him. He's laying here like a dolt. He needs to get warm. Do any of you see his jacket over there?!" She was shouting. So loud. So loud. It echoed in his ears.

"Just why isn't he wearing it?!" Was Wickerbottom's fading reply. Was the world getting more distant?

Willow was pulling him by his arm. His other arm rested over his rose. His little rose. So precious. 

Firelight came to be, alongside the rising dawn.

"He's damn near frozen!" Wickerbottom growled, shoving a fuzzy hat onto his head. "It's a wonder he isn't dead!"

"Maxwell?" Wendy peeped, roused by the noise and breaking dawn. "Is everything okay? What's going on?"

Webber rose alongside the little girl, a faint blush dusted his black cheeks as he shifted away from the girl's neck. Instincts... Instincts...

"Maxwell, what happened?" Wendy knelt beside him, her hair tickled his cheeks.

He opened his mouth, feeling his lip's crack from the cold. Warm, sickly blood trickled into his mouth. Instead of saying anything, he just bared a grin at his associates.

"Get back you children...! The last thing he needs is to be crowded in by curious imbeciles." Wickerbottom snapped. "Quickly now, get him into a tent. Webber, your little... ugh... 'friends' dropped enough silk, right?" 

The boy-spider-child nodded, scrambling to his feet and fetching the material. 

"H-here..." The boy stammered, handing over the silk.

"Thank you. Now I'll just..."

Muttering and the sound of stitching ensued.

"... There we go. Now just... Shove him on in there, I suppose."

Warmth and darkness surrounded Maxwell. He dozed off quickly. Into a dream he wished he would never leave.


	2. Lost a Part of Me (Webber)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webber deals with the fact that he's a monster.  
> Wilson comes around for some father-like bonding.

Webber held Chester close to his breast, snuggling close the creature's bristle-like fur. It was the closest creature he could be accustomed with. Even Wendy, with all of her dry humor, couldn't seem to stand him very long. Much less any of the others.

He pet the creature, delving deep into it's mouth to retrieve some meat they had skewered from hounds. Poking it onto the end of a stick, Webber held it into the nearby fire. He held back his whimpers.

He could no longer cry. He didn't have that humanity. That privilege.

Huddled close to the fire, he could feel the air around him changing. He knew that he would essentially be alone once winter came in. It was always like this. This would be the beginning of the third winter he had spent with his 'family.' 

Taking ravenous mouthfuls of the monster steak, Webber considered his newfound home.

Every winter it was the same. They encouraged him to grow his beard from his fangs. They encouraged him to use the spider that had taken him.

"We are cold." He uttered. His web was only just starting to grow in. They had him shave his old one, the one that he had tried to preserve through the winter. How did he know they would use him?

They had used his web the moment he had taken it off. It wasn't fair. Well. It wasn't fair to him. He created the web, he felt he should have some share of the tent that was made from it.

Webber mumbled quietly to himself. The air was cold and damp, and it made his bristles prickle like the defensive creature that had swallowed him.

Footsteps crunched behind him.

"Hey, Webber." Wilson's voice rang. His breath steamed in the brisk air.

"Hello." The boy willed his voice not to break. He forced his bristles flat, and took his hand from Chester's warm 'hood'... 'mouth'... 'thing.'

"Are you cold?" There was concern in the scientist's voice.

Webber shook his head.

"Come on, Webber. Don't lie to me. I saw you shivering. The weather is turning."

A warm, welcoming heat was suddenly wrapped around Webber's neck. He instinctively leaned into the touch.

"I know you don't feel welcome. You just haven't been here very long. You're an amazing young man. You're going to grow big and strong some day. I hope you understand that we're not wanting to cast you out." Wilson's voice was calming, the only comfort that Webber had experienced since... He was taken.

Wilson's suddenly serious voice took him back into reality.

"I'm going to be your buddy from now on- and I know I'm not the only one who wants to be. Wendy is very curious about you, but she too struggles to fit in." Webber could feel his bristles prickling once more. 

"You keep saying I haven't been here very long." Webber mumbled. "This is my third winter."

Wilson recoiled a moment, and Webber's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, Webber..." Wilson whispered. "I know. I know it's tough. This however... I don't agree with it. I can see how you're treated different. This winter will be different. The eve of season's change we're going to have a celebration. One that you will love."

Curious, Webber looked up into Wilson's face. He was acutely aware of how the man was holding him like a child. It was warm. Comforting.

"We call it Winter's Feast." Wilson smiled down at the boy. "We have it when we feel as though we have enough supplies to make it comfortably through the winter. It's a day where we spend time together. We eat. We be merry. We sing and dance and have some fun."

"It sounds happy." Webber whispered. "I miss happy."

"Webber, I promise that on the days we celebrate... you will positively burst from joy."

Wilson opened his arms a bit more, and Webber took the invitation gladly.

"Thank you." He churred quietly into the man's chest. "Thank you, Wilson." 


End file.
